


No Touchy

by Malcontent_Ash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Not Gay, Humor, M/M, Third Wheel Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6892555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malcontent_Ash/pseuds/Malcontent_Ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has always stood a little too close when it came to Dean, and Dean, being the hot-blooded heterosexual he is willfully ignored this fact.  Unfortunately, Cas never received his copy of the bro-code when he fell to earth.  Sam is pretty sick of both of their shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Touchy

**Author's Note:**

> This is total unbeta'd. If you have suggestions or thoughts, I'm always happy to hear them. This was written as an alternative to going back to sleep.

        It starts with an off-hand comment.

         “Dean?”

        Dean’s settled on the edge of his bed, ignoring Cas and working over his pistol with a rag.  “Yeah, what?” he asks, eyes never looking up at Cas who is looming a mere foot away from him.  Cas seemed irritated, which reluctantly draws Dean’s attention away from his work.  He looks up into the pinched and confused look on Cas’ face. 

        “Would it be improper for me to touch your face?” he asks.  Dean’s hands stop and he squints up into Cas’ too blue eyes. 

        “Why the hell would you want to do that?”  Dean’s all but glaring up at him and the hardness of it confuses Cas.

        “I-I’m not sure.  I thought that maybe if I—“  Dean shoves the gun and the rag out of his lap and onto the bed.  He wants to stand is he’s going to have this kind of conversation with Cas, but that would only put them that much closer.  No matter how many times he explained it, Cas always skimped on personal space.

        “No, Cas,” Dean interrupted.  “That’s not something guys do.”  Dean shooed Cas gently with his hands until Cas took a step back, allowing him to stand without putting them inches apart.  Cas waited, inhumanely still as he thought about it and Dean had already brushed past him and into the bathroom when he responded.

         “Oh.  Okay.”

 

 

        Two weeks later Sam and Dean have tracked a vamp’s nest outside a small suburban town in southern Minnesota.  Four bodies were discovered over the last three weeks, drained and left dropped over the edge of the embankment on the side of the freeway.  It takes several days of questioning for them to catch a lead and it takes them to an abandoned house outside of the center of town.  They park the Impala outside, digging through the trunk until Sam and Dean have their favorite machetes and a flashlight each.  With a flashlight gripped in his left hand and machete in his right, Sam looks back at Dean who nods.  Given the signal, Sam kicks the door down off its hinges and his hits the ground with a jarring thud. 

        The building is torn apart inside, stripped of copper wires and the drywall is laying in chunks around them on the floor.  Dean’s boot grinds down into a chunk of it as he steps inside.  Sam takes a swipe to the chest from one of the vamps who lunged for him as he checked around the corner.  It throws him into a rotted wall and Sam crumples into it.  Catching the glint of its eyes as his flashlight sweeps over them, Dean swings easily dislocating its head from its body.  For a moment it sticks together before the parted flesh unsticks and the head hits the ground.  Sam’s almost to his feet when another vampire comes for Dean from behind.  With his attention diverted, it lands a blow to his face and Dean staggers momentarily.  He’s standing, machete at the ready when he hears wing beats behind him.  Dean slips between its skull and shoulders like its sliding home.  He hears Sam on his feet behind him and he turns his flashlight in time to see Cas appear and catch the last vamp with an outstretched hand pressed to its forehead.  It glows, almost blindingly in the dark of the abandoned house and Cas flicks the body away. 

        Dean heads for Sam, but Cas is closer and he helps Sam to his feet.  Drywall is raining down from the ceiling now that Sam has bodily blown a whole through a major wall.  It powders Cas’ hair and shoulders as he reaches for Sam. 

         “I’m good,” Sam says, lightly.  Refusing Cas’ hand and stumbling up out of a pile of rubble which had come down with the wall. 

        Dean looks between them. 

         “This place is a shithole!” Dean announces, looking around with his flashlight.  “Whatcha think, Sam?  Doing the city a favor?” 

        _You just don’t want to dig a hole,_ Sam thinks to himself but smiles.  Dean must be in a pretty decent mood if he’s recommending arson.  Taking Sam’s silence as consent, Dean heads out to the car to retrieve their gasoline. 

        Cas is waiting uncertainly now that Dean’s gone and Sam reaches out to help knock the worst of the drywall off of Cas’s coat and out of his hair.  Cas is unmoving, so Sam uses his sleeve to brush some grit away from his eyes. 

         “That’s… inappropriate, Sam.”  Cas’ face is cleared of the worst of it and he strikes Sam as a reverse raccoon.  Sam hms, wiping his sleeve off on his jeans. 

         “What is?”  Sam is still picking pieces of what he really hopes isn’t asbestos off of his shirt.

         “Men aren’t supposed to touch each other’s faces.”  Cas seems deadly serious and Sam tries not to laugh at the firm line of his pouty lips. 

         “What?” he snuffs, succumbing to a small chuckle.  “What gave you that idea?”  Cas looks as deadly serious as ever and Sam does his best to interpret the consternated look on his face.

        Dean comes back with the gasoline and they gather the bodies together and douse them.  As the flames consume the bodies and start to reach for the ground around, Sam heads back to the car and calls 911.

 

 

        It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to determine that generally when Cas’ upset it’s Dean’s fault.  Between that and the constant charged atmosphere between the two of them, Sam was on Dean’s case by the time he exited the bathroom.  Dean opened the door, steam piling out of the bathroom.  He was wearing his boxers and toweling his hair leisurely until he caught Sam’s eye. 

         “What?” 

        Sam was still frowning at him.  “Seriously, Dean?”

         “What?  I haven’t done anything,” he tried not to let it twist into an impatient whine but siblings had a way of reverting you back to twelve.  Sam took a fortifying breath.  The first couple months had been tolerable, but this was getting out of hand, and as much as Sam really didn’t want to have this conversation, something had to give.

         “Look.  If you don’t want Cas touching you--”  Dean’s face scrunched up and he opened his mouth to protest, “ _that’s fine,”_ Sam continued a little louder.  If the words ‘chick’, ‘flick’ or ‘moment’ exited Dean’s mouth in any order at this point Sam wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions.  “Just tell him you’re not interested.  He’s got enough going on in that freaky little head of his without you making things more confusing than they already are.” 

        Dean pushed past him, nudging Sam juvenilely with an elbow as he past.  “It’s not my job to explain everything to him.  Even if he acts like a baby, he’s _how_ many million years old?  He’s a big boy.”

        Sam rubbed his face in his hands.  “Dean, it’s exactly your job to explain things to him.”  Dean was sorting through his duffel for a clean T-shirt. 

         “Yeah?  And why’s that?” he shot back over his shoulder at Sam.

         “He’s only _here_ because of you.  Let him down easy.” 

 

 

        Dean was packing his bag, stuffing the crumpled clothes from the last couple days into his bag.  Sam had left for the library an hour ago, already printing articles for their next hunt.  Dean jumped at the sound of rustling wings too close behind him.  He felt the heat of Cas’ body behind him as he turned around. 

         “ _Cas,”_ he hissed, “come on, man.  Scared the shit out of me.”  Dean zipped his bag and threw it on the bed.  Cas at least had the decency to look apologetic.  Dean grabbed his gun off the nightstand and tucked it into his belt before pushing past Cas, who was standing in his way.  Cas didn’t turn to face him once he’d passed and Dean fought a wave of guilt. 

         “Cas…” he sighed, settling back on the edge of his bed next to his bag.  “Look…” he started, watching Cas’ unmoving back.  “I lied.  Some guys…” Dean had to clear his throat.  “When they like each other, they… y’know…”  Cas looked over his shoulder at Dean, turning slowly.

         “Touch?” Cas’ face is inhumanely blank as he says it and Dean coughs loudly. 

         “That, uh… that too.”  Cas is watching him too closely now, and Dean leans back a little. 

         “If I said that I liked you, would it be okay for me to touch your face?”  Cas is standing close now, trying to catch Dean’s attention, but Dean would rather look at pretty much anything else at this moment. 

         “Why do you…” he mutters a little exasperated, but when he looks up, Cas’ face is surprisingly gentle.  Dean sighs and the exhalation leaves him surprisingly tired.  “Yeah, okay.  Go nuts.”  His shoulders are squared off, jaw tucked slightly under like his preparing for a blow.  Cas watches his own hand transfixed as his fingertips brush along the rough stubble of Dean’s jaw.

         “It this okay?” he asks, and Dean can’t ignore how _that_ sounds.  Cas wouldn’t understand the implications so Dean tries to let it go. 

         “Yeah,” he breathes roughly against Cas’ palm.  Cas reaches up with his other hand and cups Dean’s face lightly between them.  Like this, Dean is forced to make eye contact with Cas and he can feel Cas’ probing and curious attention.  Feeling a little self-conscious, Dean licks his lips and he can see the way Cas’ eyes follow the motion.  Dean leans a little into one of Cas’ palms and he sees a soft surprised look on Cas’ face. 

        Cas is leaning over him now, standing over where Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed.  Dean tilts his head up until his nose brushes against Cas’ and he lets his lips brush in the faintest touch against Cas’.  He’s warm and tender above Dean and the soft surprised sound Cas makes goes straight to his groin.  This was different.  Different even from Anna, and Dean found his hands lacing into Cas’ hair, brushing behind his ears and tugging him closer. 

        Cas had been kissed only once since he reached earth, but the charged air and feather light touches were completely unlike Meg’s sinful lips against his vessel’s.  Dean was vulnerable like this, and Cas could feel his breath like hummingbird wing beats on his lips.  It was like electricity, branching out between them and Cas tried pulling Dean close like he had Meg.  Dean was tense at first, but after a moment he relented and reciprocated and suddenly the gesture made a lot more sense to Cas.  Dean was pulling at him, tugging him down while their lips fitted and slid against each other.  Cas startled a little when Dean’s tongue tickled across the crease of their lips before slipping inside. 

        Cas was amazed by the intimacy of it, and he watched the soft flush on Dean’s cheeks as he felt the inside of Cas’ mouth.  Dean’s eyes were closed and he looked softer than Cas had seen him before. 

         “ _Cas,_ ” Dean grumbled aware of Cas’ eyes on him, and Cas could feel Dean stiffening, pulling away.  Desperately, Cas gripped his face tighter, pressing their lips almost painfully together and falling into Dean.

        The air knocked out of his lungs as he hit the bed, but Cas was over him now.  Dean raised his hips and rolled up against Cas who was thankfully hard above him.  Now that it was happening, Dean could admit to himself that he’d thought about it.  How could he not with Cas standing a breath away, eyes never leaving Dean’s face.  He wasn’t sure which one of them was taking advantage of the other, but Cas’ surprised jerk when he pressed their erections together was all the answer he needed. 

        He grabbed Cas’ shoulders, fingers digging into the rough material of Cas’ trench coat.  He pulled Cas down until Cas was straddling him, and he pressed up into the hard pressure of Cas’ erection.  Wide blue eyes stared down at Dean in surprise and Dean watched the barest hint of Cas’ tongue through his parted lips.  Dean let his hand slide down Cas’ sides as they noisily rubbed over the trench coat until his hands were gripping Cas’ hips.  He gripped Cas tight, using the leverage to rub hot friction between them.  Cas looked down at him, startled and he cried out.  Dean could feel Cas’ heat seeping through to him and he groaned. 

         “ _God, Cas.”_ He sighed, rolling up against the damp patch in the front of Cas’ pants as his head fell back into the pillow.  Climax took him slowly, and he rolled haltingly against Cas.  With the final jolts of pleasure still gripping his pelvis he looked up at Cas, unprepared for what he’d see.  Cas was watching him, almost reverently, eyes blown wide. 

         “ _Dean,”_ Cas breathed.  He raised a hand from where it had been supporting his weight over Dean and he touched his fingertips to Dean’s lips.  Cautiously, Dean pressed a soft kiss against them as Cas devoured the sight rapturously.  How many times had Cas wiped away his wounds with the gentlest touch of these fingers?  Dean kissed the next fingertip before grabbing Cas’ hand. 

        He rolled Cas over, tugging Cas’ shirt up out of the mess.  Cas could feel the cooling dampness soaked into his jeans and the bottom of his shirt and he looked to Dean who nodded.  In an instant he was clean and dry, and even if his vessel still felt it, the evidence was scrubbed clean.  He brushed his hand again Dean and his clothes were clean and pressed.  Dean sighed, lying down on the bed beside Cas. 

         “Dean,” Cas breathed, hand reached out for Dean’s who accepted it and laced their fingers together without turning to look.  “Why did you say I couldn’t touch you?”

         “I’m not gay, Cas,” Dean huffs, still cradling Cas’ hand.  They wait in silence for a moment.

         “…I’m an angel,” Cas provides, trying to guide Dean to whatever point he’s trying to make.

         “Yeah.  So it doesn’t count.”

 

 

        Sam returns an hour later to find Cas milling around while Dean showers.  Cas’ hair is somehow messier than usual and he has a loose, almost blissful look on his face.  Sam walks past where Cas is floating and bangs on the bathroom door. 

         “Change your mind?” he shouts over the spray.

         “Eat me, Sam!”  Dean calls, blinking the water from his eyes. 

 


End file.
